


A Dangerous Man

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Interspecies, M/M, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pippin takes a liking to a dangerous Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dangerous Man

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! I wrote this some time ago. It's not much more than a PWP, and is a vampire-hobbit fic. And it features Halbarad, Ranger of the North. So.

Title: A Dangerous Man  
Pairing: Halbarad/Pippin  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: slash, vampirism, crack!fic  
Disclaimer: This is a benign avocational fiction. And all that.

 

Pippin Took was a flirt, and knew it, and reveled in it. Before he could even properly walk he would catch the indulgent eye of an older relative, smile a sweet baby smile, and skip-waddle behind a chair or table, knowing he'd be chased and scooped up giggling and kissed all over. As he grew older he learned with precision just how much he could get away with by widening his eyes and arranging his features into a semblance of innocence, how much he could win by smiling just so and exerting his charm. And then Pippin hit his Change, and his talent for flirting came into its own, and hardly a hobbit was safe when Pippin Took really wanted something, or someone.

Pippin wanted now, very much. He knew that Merry was home and Frodo was home and Fatty was home, none of them with him at Great Smials, that his father had a Man visiting for mysterious reasons, and that it had fallen to Pippin to entertain their guest. So Pippin trotted along beside this Man, who had called himself Halbarad, watching how he moved on long legs swathed in leather tubes, how he gracefully ducked the chandeliers and doorways, how he smiled and pushed his long grey-threaded hair back from his face. Pippin saw all this, and felt familiar spirals of fire in his belly, and he opened his eyes ingenuously wide and tilted his head just so as he smiled in return. Under the pretext of keeping close, he clung to Halbarad's leg, feeling muscles like sleek granite beneath his fingers, until a deep laugh echoed down to him. "And what are you doing there, little master?" asked Halbarad, settling smoothly into a crouch before Pippin.

Startled, Pippin gasped a little, before he collected himself enough to smile winsomely. "Trying to keep up with you, sir, with your long strong legs." Pippin grinned, and Halbarad grinned back, his teeth broad and white, the canines long. He tilted his head as he regarded Pippin for a moment, grey eyes narrowing to keenness; then suddenly his hand cupped Pippin's head, its length and breadth covering his face from curls to jaw, and Pippin gasped aloud, fear mingling with but not dousing his desire. Did he want to flee? Did he want to stay? His heart pounded as he froze beneath the touch of that large warm hand.

Halbarad tugged gently, thumb stroking Pippin's cheek, fingers curling behind his head; Pippin stumbled closer, watching Halbarad's smile broaden, his pointy teeth shed the cover of his lips. "You're a pert youth, are you not?" Halbarad asked, his voice deeper and rougher; Pippin's mouth opened, but no words came out, and then Halbarad leaned forward that last bit and kissed him.

His mouth was wide, and firm, and tasted good; smoky and male, not sweet like a hobbit's, but good. His fingers pressed against the nape of Pippin's neck, sinking into and beneath the curls, as he pressed forward and Pippin pressed to meet him, running his tongue along the wide bottom lip. Halbarad chuckled, a rumble from deep within him that vibrated through the kiss, and slipped his wide tongue up to capture Pippin's, to dance with it and to wind round it; Pippin's lips parted further as that large tongue curled into his mouth, tracing all his damp corners. Pippin's desire flared till his head went light, his prick hardening till it throbbed, his blood rushing fast as a springtime brook and hotter than tea, and he pressed his body to Halbarad's chest, winding his arms round Halbarad's neck, immersing himself in the kiss.

Too soon, far too soon, Halbarad chuckled again, pulling his tongue back, pulling his lips back, pulling his hand back, pulling from Pippin's grasp. "Yes," he said as if to himself; a small disappointed noise escaped Pippin's abandoned mouth, and Halbarad turned his grey gaze back to him and laughed, not unkindly. "A pert youth, and fair, and a sweet kisser. And the son of my host. Look for me next time you bed down in the wild, if you would have another kiss."

With that Halbarad rose and turned, as if he'd never stopped, never looked at Pippin, never kissed him, and Pippin was hard put to stumble after him, what with the tenting in his breeches.

^*^

 

Pippin went to sleep indignant and sore-wristed, dreamt of grey eyes and long fingers and mighty thighs, and woke to a plan. He hadn't gone camping in awhile, after all, and he missed Merry, and wasn't Buckland lovely this time of year?

His father shook his head, but let himself be talked into giving permission. His mother wound a soft knitted scarf around his neck. His cousins Everard and Ferdibrand, dispatched as escorts, spent the journey exploring every tavern on their way and playing tweens together, which mostly amused Pippin, except that it reminded him of the real reason for his trip.

The last night before they'd reach Buckland, Pippin woke to a full shining Moon and a full bladder. Ferdi and Ev lay snoring in a heap on the other side of the fire; Pippin rose and wandered away from them to find a bush to water, thinking with some rue of the Man he'd hoped to see. Ah, well. He shook himself off and tucked himself away and looked up at the round silver Moon, feeling wistful.

A large hand clamped over his mouth, and a large arm wound round him, hauling him up off his feet and tucking him against a larger body, which turned and bore him swiftly off.

Pippin went rigid with shock, then unfroze himself to thrash. Didn't Ev and Ferdi hear anything? Pippin's captor was plunging through the brush far too quickly for quiet, even before Pippin realized his thrashing and prying were doing him no good, found his voice, and began shouting through the hand gagging him. He expected a cuff or a "shhh", but what he heard instead was a rich, familiar chuckle that silenced him far more effectively.

They came to a small glade, ringed by thicker brush, and Pippin's captor set him on his feet. Pippin whirled----

\---and saw Halbarad, the Ranger, his father's guest, smiling at him. "Greetings, Pippin," said Halbarad warmly, and Pippin laughed with relief and glee. "You scared me!" he cried, punching Halbarad's leg, and Halbarad only laughed in return, kneeling before him. "You should be more wary," Halbarad chided cheerfully. "These woods have their dangers."

"But I'm safe, since you're here," Pippin retorted, hands on hips. Halbarad's smile stretched to a hungry sort of grin, and his canine teeth glinted. "Are you safe, indeed?" he asked, voice gone low and rough again. "When I am dangerous?" His words sent a thrill through Pippin; before he could decide whether it was fear or desire, Halbarad had grasped his arms in those long, large hands, and pulled him off his feet, and was kissing him again.

The kiss before was a mere peck, compared to this, compared to being caught up off the ground and delightfully crushed within Halbarad's embrace, compared to having his mouth thoroughly ravished. Pippin wound his arms round Halbarad's neck and hooked a leg round his waist, and Halbarad sat back on his knees as he kissed Pippin, holding him in one arm, running the other hand all over him, nape to knees and back again. The heel of his long hand pressed between Pippin's legs, and Pippin squirmed into the touch, hot even through gloves and clothes, seeking more.

Halbarad broke off the kiss with a gasp, and when Pippin opened his eyes to find him again he noticed the moonlight glinting off the silver strands in his hair. "Pippin," Halbarad said, voice unsteady, and Pippin realized, with not a little triumph, that the Man was breathless. "Pippin Took. Do you come to me freely?"

"I walked across half the Shire looking for you!" Pippin cried, pressing forward for another kiss, and Halbarad laughed, stroking his hand up Pippin's back to cup his cheek, the other hand curving beneath Pippin's rump. "This will change you," he warned, and Pippin rolled his eyes, spreading his fingers into Halbarad's hair. "I _have_ done this before," Pippin replied, watching Halbarad's teeth shine in the moonlight. "In fact, I was precocious."

"I do not doubt it," Halbarad replied, unwinding Pippin's scarf from his throat. "I do not doubt it in the least. And I would have you, Pippin, if you'll have me."

"Gladly." Pippin leaned forward again, and this time Halbarad let him catch his mouth, even as surprisingly nimble fingers made quick work of Pippin's cloak and jacket and weskit. He should have been cold, Pippin felt, but somehow he wasn't, surrounded by Halbarad's arms, Halbarad's warmth. Pippin felt the Man's cloak fall away behind him, and then Halbarad set Pippin back onto his knees for a moment as he drew off several layers of leather; Pippin watched, mouth watering, and swallowed and gaped when Halbarad's chest was finally revealed, traced and crossed with shiny scars, dusted with wiry hairs, muscled and firm beneath his hands. Halbarad smiled, pushing down Pippin's braces and stripping off his shirt, then running a warm rough finger up his chest from navel to throat. "What fine skin," he murmured, spreading all his fingers over it, brushing them across Pippin's nipples to feel them harden.

Pippin felt he should say something in return, but he couldn't speak. Halbarad was so, well, there was so much of him! And all of it firm and muscled and overlain with fascinating scars. Pippin wanted to ask how he'd come by each and every one of them, but for the moment he settled for licking along a particularly long one that stretched over Halbarad's ribs, listening to Halbarad gasp and groan, feeling him tremble beneath his tongue. "Pippin!" Halbarad cried, "you, oh, Pippin, I _hunger_\---"

With those words, Halbarad grasped Pippin by the shoulders and pulled him up for another kiss; his arms slid round Pippin's body as he laid a line of kiss-bites, each one sharper than the last, across Pippin's cheek and jaw. Pippin giggled and squirmed at the bites, and gasped at how hard the last one was; he was just opening his mouth to cry out, when he felt Halbarad's tongue lave his throat. Then fangs entered his skin, sliding in like twin needles.

For a moment it hurt, it pierced, it felt wrong. For a moment Pippin gasped and struggled. Then the pain receded fast as it'd bloomed, and a warm lassitude spread in its wake, till Pippin's head rolled back on his neck and he went limp in Halbarad's arms. Distantly, Pippin felt something like alarm, but much smaller; Halbarad was drinking his blood, drinking his life! But it felt so good, to be wrapped in Halbarad's arms, pressed to Halbarad's chest, feeling Halbarad's heart beating more and more strongly even as Pippin's own weakened, even as the warmth grew heavier, pulling him limper, pulling him down.

The fangs slid out of his skin. Halbarad's tongue swiped again at Pippin's throat, and then he pulled Pippin back a little, to cup his head in one hand and look into his face; Pippin fluttered heavy eyelids at Halbarad's touch to his cheek, then gave himself over to limpness and warm drifting. "Delicious," Halbarad murmured, stroking Pippin gently. "Delicious halfling lad. Be patient a moment, and you shall be restored and rewarded."

Pippin felt himself laid down on a cloak, felt his remaining clothes drawn off, felt a cool breeze skate over the surface of the thick warmth he lay submerged in. He knew he should care, should struggle, should.... he lay, warm and quiet and waiting, as Halbarad gathered him up again, kissing him all over his face and throat, eyelids and cheeks and chin, dandling him like a doll. He should care, Pippin thought, but all he could do was feel, Halbarad's lips and hands and hair sweeping across his skin, Halbarad's scarred chest as he leaned bonelessly against it.

"Easy, my lad, easy," Halbarad crooned, words fading off into a soft tuneless hum, as he settled his hands on Pippin's hips and pushed. And then---

Another invasion of Pippin's body, but yet very different. Instead of sharpness, this was blunt; instead of being unfamiliar, this was something Pippin knew, albeit only with his fellow hobbits. But just as before, pain flared and died and was replaced by warmth and pleasure. Pippin listened to Halbarad's ragged breathing, his own breath whistling between his teeth, Halbarad's heart throbbing beneath his ear; he sank down, was filled, more than he ever had been before and more yet, and all so preternaturally easily, as if Pippin's body were beyond resistance, beyond struggle, beyond anything but sensation.

Finally, with a little slap they were flush, Pippin sitting on Halbarad's thighs, his face pressed to Halbarad's chest. Halbarad pulled up one hand, the other stroking Pippin's back, up and down and up again; he gave a little wince that rippled through his body, and his voice was husky as he said, "drink", as something hot and wet pressed to Pippin's lips. Obediently, Pippin opened his mouth.

Blood. Fresh thick salty blood filled Pippin's mouth; he could almost taste its redness, taste the thrum of Halbarad's life flowing into him. Above him, within him, around him, Halbarad shuddered, and gasped, and with his other hand, clamped to Pippin's hip, he began to move them.

Pleasure and more pleasure, life filling his mouth and his veins, Halbarad deep within him; Pippin moaned as he drank, as his limbs filled with strength and passion, as he gripped Halbarad's wrist in one hand and clutched him with the other arm, planting his feet on the ground and pushing to help move them against each other. Halbarad pulled his wrist away with a chuckle and some effort, for Pippin hung on; Pippin pressed his face to Halbarad's chest, found a nipple, bit and tongued it as he moved and moaned and Halbarad thrust within him, harder and harder and harder. Life beating in him like great wings, Pippin threw his head back, clutching Halbarad's shoulders, distantly hearing himself crying out----

\---With nothing touching his prick at all, Pippin found himself shocked by the force of his peak, like a blow to every part of him, an explosion of pleasure so strong his vision flashed white and went dark. Halbarad cried out something wordless and gripped Pippin's hips in both hands, driving deep within him for several more strokes till his own peak took him and he threw his head back with a groan so loud it echoed off the trees. Pippin clung to his heaving friend, feeling as if all the world surged and throbbed around him as he rode out Halbarad's peak.

Halbarad slumped backwards, pulling Pippin with him to lie on his chest, and they held each other for a long sated moment. Brimful and sloshing with warmth and pleasure, Pippin sighed and wriggled against Halbarad; feeling his lips oddly sticky, he licked them, and tasted wisps of blood.

It tasted better even than mushrooms.

"Ah, Pippin," Halbarad sighed at length, stroking Pippin's hair. "Delicious, delightful Pippin. I have made a monster, have I not? Or at least fledged a nestling one?" The moonlight was brighter round them, the pounding of their hearts and rasp of their breathing louder, the tingles crackling through Pippin more pronounced, slower to die. Pippin raised his head, and as he did his tongue slid over one of his canine teeth, and he found it sharp.

_Oh_, Pippin thought, and understood, and laughed. "Given one his wings, at any rate. And his fangs. Thank you, Halbarad."

Halbarad merely smiled, curling his hand round Pippin's shoulder, and pulled him up for another kiss.

^*^

 

Pippin Took was still a flirt. He took to wearing scarves, which pleased his mother and displeased his father and gave his favorite cousin Merry reason to tease him. He smiled a little less, but the mystery looked good on him, and when he did smile his canine teeth shone sharp. If he had been difficult to resist before, now he was almost a terror, save that no one could fear such a charming sweet lad; his fellow tweens learned not to break their friendships with each other over his roving passions, not least because the most jealous tended to inexplicably vanish. Pippin Took was ever a flirt, but sometimes these days he flirted with deadly intent.


End file.
